


Little Soldier Boy

by oxiosa



Series: BrArg Week 2017 [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Blood and Violence, BrArg Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 11:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiosa/pseuds/oxiosa
Summary: Luciano feels like laughing, feels like punching him, feels like kicking him to outer space, because he’s clearly dealing with an idiot.





	Little Soldier Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer; the characters used in this work belong to the community Latin Hetalia and their respective creators. More info about them in the following link > www.latin-hetalia.livejournal.com
> 
> Argentina: Martín Hernández.  
> Brazil: Luciano Da Silva.

Luciano had know, from the beginning, that this was a suicide mission.

He knew there were little chances of getting out alive from shooting up to space in a old little merchant cargo ship and infiltrating a T.R.I.M. ship with a little group of other armed civilians to plant a bomb inside the main engines, but it had to be done.

For his family. For his people. For his country. For Elpis.

T.R.I.M. had done enough to their planet, and they would not longer stand by and watch.

The plan had been risky, but simple enough; dress in an imitation of T.R.I.M. uniforms Mrs. Clara put together for them, hide between Mr. Emilio’s potato cargo as they made their way to space, sneak out of the cargo ship with a bag full of explosives once they arrived, and then make their way to the Crusader’s engines room.

That was the part of the plan that troubled Luciano.  _ A Crusader. _ A fully armed war ship with thousands and  _ thousands _ of soldier and a hangar full of battle ships.

A suicide mission.

The thing is, Luciano had expected to have a quick death and to at least to be caught and executed  _ already _ by the time their bomb exploded.

He hadn’t expected to be running for his life through the halls of a Crusader while alarm sirens blast deafening over his head and the calm voice of a woman tries to give instruction through speakers.

He’s lost his group in the chaos; the explosion had been bigger than they had anticipated, had caused more damage than had intended, had caused a chain reaction beyond anything Luciano has ever seen. The ship is being evacuated in emergency, and as Luciano tries to make his way to the merchant cargo ship waiting for him in the hangar, he has to make his way pushing and pulling at screaming terrified people running for their lives.

A explosion shakes the ship violently, and the alarms and the woman’s voice go quiet to leave place to the high unnerving pitch of a dead communication.

Everything is dead silence for a moment as the people aboard the ship wait for some sort of comfort from the speakers.

When none comes, pure havoc breaks.

People start pushing and pulling, elbowing and hitting each other. It’s hard to fight against the waves of people of a terrified crowd, men and women running  _ over  _ each other. Luciano’s whole body aches, and he’s even got blood running down his face from a elbow that hit him straight across his temples.

It takes him far longer than planned, but he finally makes it to the hangar.

Here chaos reigns as well, people screaming and begging to board transporters as ships fly over their heads and leave hurriedly off into space. Luciano finds comfort that the wide open space of the hangar leaves him room to move around without having to push (too much) people. He visualized his group in the distance, hastily boarding Mr. Emilio’s cargo ship, and sprints as fast as his legs can carry him.

“Hey!” Luciano calls, waves a hand above his head as he rushes among the crowd. “Guys, hey!”

His group raises their eyes towards him, and their faces bright up with relief before they morph to worry.

Before Luciano can even react, he is tackled down to the ground.

“Hold!” a voice screams over his head.

Two soldiers have seized him down, hold him down with plasma rifles pointed at his head.

“ _ Fucking terrorist, _ ” hisses the older of the two, raises his rifle ready to strike Luciano down.

The hit never comes. Instead, the soldier tumbles back and falls limply to the ground when a  plasma shot tears thought his neck and kills him instantly.

The startle of the shot brings everyone around them into panic, and that’s enough of a distraction for Luciano to shove the other soldier off. As he climbs back to his feet, he pulls his blaster off his leg holster and points towards the soldier.

This time, the shot doesn’t connect. The man dodges Luciano’s shot taking the barrel of the blaster and harshly pulling it up, but another shot, again from someone among Luciano’s group, that takes him down when it hits him on his thigh. Luciano is free again, and has no time left to lose.

Before he can even gather himself enough to make the run towards Mr. Emilio’s cargo ship, another explosion erupts above them and the ground at their feet shakes. Half of the hangar’s roof crumbles down like it’s made of paper with a long alarming creek. Plates of heavy steel fall from above, crush ships and people all the same.

Luciano shares glances of horror with his group before they get crushed and buried under a metal grave.

He stares, frozen with fear and shock, and numbly looks around.

The damage is devastating. Half the hangar has collapsed. And not only that.

Their way out is blocked now by steel plates and beams, and sparking cables.

The soldier at his side stares just as bewildered; the grap on his injured leg has become lax now as the pain is forgotten.

Around them, screaming has turned into crying, and the people still able to walk abandon the dangerous state of precariousness the hangar offers now. There’s nothing left here, but wrecked ships, a blocked gate and crashed corpses.

The Crusader shakes again, rumbles angrily, and it’s enough of a reality remainder for Luciano to come back to himself.

He’s the first of the two to react; he throws a punch to the soldier’s face, and in one quick motion, he puts his blaster back to his leg holster and takes the man’s plasma rifle from the floor as he scrambles to his feet. He raises the gun, so heavy between in his arms, and points straight to the soldier’s head.

The man glares up at him and spits blood at Luciano’s feet with a curse.

“You’ll help me get out of here,” he orders.

The man’s eyes spark up in a furious green.

“Fuck you,” he bares his bloody teeth in a snarl.

Luciano’s grip around the rifle tightens, and his finger closes a little closer around the trigger.

“This place will blow up any time now,” Luciano says. “We need to-”

“And whose fucking fault is that?!” the soldier snaps at him. “You did this. You fucking terrorist did this! And you dare come and tell me to just fucking help you?!”

Luciano doesn’t have time for this.

He crouches before him, and grasp the soldier by the neck of his shirt - only now Luciano realises that he’s not even wearing an armor of any sorts, just a plain blue uniform with a silver tag that read ‘M. Hernández’ on his chest.

He hadn’t been on duty when all this started then.

“Do you really want to die here?” Luciano hisses, angrily.

M. Hernández holds his stare for ten solid seconds before shoving Luciano off.

“I will hold you responsible for what you did,” he promises, his voice low and spilling venom.

Luciano can work with that.

He has to help M. Hernández stand, and half carry him as they run to the escape pods of the East Wing. The shot on his leg slows them down, but Luciano can’t make it on his own, so leaving him behind is not an option.

Where once the halls were crowded, now there’s completely empty. It’s just the two of them, rushing in a race against time as the Crusader rumbles and shakes around them. Luciano tries not to think much about what does it mean to suddenly be the only ones around. Tries not to lose hope.

They both are aching and breathing hard when they finally make it to the escape pods. Most of them are gone, rows and rows of empty widows to space, but they find themselves one.

M. Hernández has a thin layer of sweat over his forehead and is pale with pain, but he works fast with slightly shaking hands as he writes a code by the screen of the pod. With a soft hiss the door slides open, and Luciano all but falls inside and rushes to the console.

He’s never flown anything into space, but he has enough experience with ships and speeders and land ships to be able to understand - and hopefully fly - this thing. 

As Luciano seals the door and gets the engines going, M. Hernández quietly limps behind him. He seems to need a moment to catch himself before he looks around, and slowly makes it to the cockpit’s glass with wide eyes.

Infinite darkness spreads before them, sprinkled with clouds of all colours and bright shimmering stars.

Neither of them talk as Luciano sets course back to Elpis. As they distance themselves from the crumbling Crusader, Luciano finally relaxes and can finally breathe again. He drops back in his seat, and lets out a tired huff.

M. Hernández has not moved since he entered the pod, wide green eyes glued up front. Luciano almost finds it funny.

“First time seeing the old wide black?” he teases.

M. Hernández doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look at him when he answers.

“Yes,” he admits quietly.

Luciano turns sharply at him, and his eyes go wide with disbelief.

“Are you  _ serious _ ?” he says, too surprised to be mindful. “You’ve never seen the open space? Ever? But you’re a soldier! You had been living in a floating tin can for the last month!”

M. Hernández frowns, and finally tears his eyes from the endless darkness of space.

“Our rooms don’t have windows,” he replies, a little defensively. “Neither does any part of the ship, except the cockpit.”

“ _ Figures, _ ” Luciano mumbles, huffs with distaste. “Of course T.R.I.M. transports their men in fucking flying jails, what was I expecting from an intergalactic evil corporation.”

M. Hernández sets his jaw, and fire burns in his eyes again.

“What is your problem?” he snaps, angrily. “All we’re trying to do is help you!”

_ “Help?” _ Luciano asks with an hysterical laugh. “Why, you call help coming to our planet without invitation and assembling a float of Crusaders around our home? ‘Cause last time I checked that’s not the definition of helping!”

“There wouldn’t be any need of violence if you people didn’t attacked our facilities!” M. Hernández hisses back. “You should be happy T.R.I.M. is giving you a chance to grow, to be better, and this is how you answer! You attack us, you break into our institutions, you sneak into our ships and kill thousands!”

Luciano feels like laughing, feels like punching him, feels like kicking him to outer space, because he’s clearly dealing with an _ idiot _ .

“Do you even _ know  _ what you people do down there?” he asks, on the edge of hysteria.

M. Hernández balls his hands into fists, and some colour is back to his face in an angry blush.

“Do you think I’m _ stupid _ ?” he snarls “I joined T.R.I.M. ‘cause I know how much they have done! I’ve seen it myself, asshole, and so would you if you stopped your aggressions!”

That doesn’t sound right.

“You’ve seen it?” Luciano raises an eyebrow at him, suspicious.

“ _ Yes _ .”

“Then tell me how did they improve your lives,” Luciano dares, tilts his chin up. “What’s better now?”

M. Hernández rolls his eyes impatiently.

“It was years ago,” he huffs.“It’s not like I can just start naming down stuff.” 

“Why not?” Luciano presses, defiant.

“I wasn’t-Back at home. My home,” he says. “It happened when I was a child.”

“A child?” Luciano asks skeptical. “How old?”

M. Hernández hesitates, and that alone is enough for Luciano to realize he doesn’t really  _ know _ . Which means he was too young to even remember.  _ Far too young. _

“So you  _ haven’t  _ seen it,” Luciano hums.

“My planet is nothing but sand and stone,” he snaps, defiant. “There’s no food, no water, people don’t make it outside the cities T.R.I.M. built for us, it’s-we were dying out there. They saved us.”

“How do you know, if you don’t remember?”

“We needed T.R.I.M.!” M. Hernández insists. “They gave us homes, schools, hospitals!”

“And you certain you didn’t have all of those before?”

M. Hernández is startled by a question Luciano can tell he has never  _ ever  _ asked himself.

“We’ve been told,” M. Hernández replies. “Who do you think I am? I was well raised-”

“By your parents?”

It’s like he has physically struck him down. He gives a step back, and the colour on his cheeks flushes down to a sick pale.

“That means nothing,” M. Hernández says but his voice falters, and Luciano can see it crystal clear, just like it’s happening back home; just another baby orphan T.R.I.M. takes in after destroying their world. “I was well educated, I’m not some uncultured idiot…”

“So you’re telling me the dudes that came to your planet and obliterated all traces of what was there  _ before _ them take you in and you just believe everything they tell you?”

M. Hernández stares at him, and Luciano is honestly not even mad anymore.

If anything, he thinks, he should pity this guy.

A huge spherical shape comes into view through the cockpit glass. It’s enough to distract them both, as Elpis comes into full display before them.

M. Hernández lets out a gasp when he sees it, and Luciano can’t help to grow somber at the sight of his home.

Elpis has always been known for being a rich green planet, full of wide blue oceans and lush rain forests. Since T.R.I.M. has arrived, all that has changed. Half the planet still holds it’s bold exuberant green. The other half has died and turned into a dessert, slowly creeping, _ clawing _ , into Elpi’s rests of life like a cancer.

M. Hernández’s raises a hand toward it and press his fingers against the glass. Luciano doesn’t tear his gloom glance from his dying home when he speaks next.

“Are you sure your planet was a dessert before T.R.I.M. arrived?”

**Author's Note:**

> BrargWeek Day 6 – Sci Fi ☑


End file.
